The Blog Entries of My Mind

New mamas, if you haven't yet tried putting baby down in an electric swing (possibly on the highest setting) or if baby has not exactly enjoyed the experience, try try try again. Right now Bodhi is cooing and smiling and happily rocking in his little swing, and I'm blogging, soon to do yoga until/unless he gets restless. I have some friends who call the swing The Neglecto-o-matic, but it's awesome. I might even go brush my teeth.

This all relates to what my friend Mama Jenn calls

THE MALCOM X. SCHOOL OF PARENTING (Blog Entry of My Mind #1)

That is to say, we do whatever it takes to soothe, relax, make content, resolve, please, relieve, give reprieve to ourselves and our babies...we use every tool that's ever been invented or suggested, so we can achieve serenity even for just a moment...BY ANY MEANS NECESSARY.

And this is how I've come to use the Neglect-o-matic, the pacifier, the bottle, the teething rings, the play gym on the floor, the vibrating baby chair, lullabies, a crib, a crib mobile, a Bumbo seat, stroller and yes, even disposable diapers.

OH THE BITTER SHAME OF IT ALL.

Generally speaking, I cradle my baby when he's restless, I sleep with him and I nurse him down to sleep at night and to nap. I cloth diaper him during the day, doubling up on the prefolds. He bathes with me almost every night, though if I'm alone in the house I usually use the infant tub.

I sing him songs all day long, I'm teaching him a few signs, we go for lots and lots of walks -- the stroller has been rocking our world these past few days -- and I've had him receive numerous wonderful craniosacral treatments, which I can't recommend highly enough. I occasionally do infant massage on him -- oddly enough, he doesn't seem to love it, and I am even a massage therapist! But he's supercuddly and kissy, and even though right now he's teething he loves love loves kisses and being rocked to sleep in my arms while I chant "OM."

Yes. I chant him to sleep every night, with Beatles, boobs, Om Namah Shivayah, Hare Krishna, Shri Ram, Jaya Jagatambe, etc.

So why do I feel so much shame about using all these (in my mind) White Trash Tools of Parenting?

I do use disposable diapers, as I said, but at least I have him wear pants and a shirt over them. I can't deal with the image of my baby walking around in a Pamper and nothing else, runny nose with crusty nostrils, hauling around a bottle of Similac in the dirtyard.

But ya know, it happens, and God loves us all the same.

So another blog entry of my mind is

BREASTFEEDING SUCKS

--which is all about the trials and tribulations of this mostly joyful, ecstatic, delicious shared experience between mama and baby. Because it hurts, it's awkward, it can raise serious questions about self esteem and ego, and it's controversial. It's sooooo good when it's going well, and it's soooooo bad when it's not. The principle that I always apply to our breastfeeding matters is: practice, practice, practice.

And finally, the last Blog Entry of My Mind:

THE DARK SIDE OF MOTHERING

You got part of it up above, my true confessions, but you haven't gotten the despair in the middle of the night, the sadness and frustration brought on by sleep deprivation and self-doubt, the awkward gracelessness of a yogini mom with what may very well be a dislocated right femur, or of any new mom trying to balance a squirming baby in one hand, salad or car keys or a diaper bag in the other, all the while trying to open the front door without having to put anything down. While the glass door keeps trying to slam on us.

There is also the image of me at the rehearsal dinner, knowing there was a massive fecal deposit in a diaper, taking strong baby to tiny dirty bathroom that had no changing table, and no countertop at the sink even, forcing me to squat dangerously close to the filthy floor (nowhere to hang the giant diaper bag, either) changing baby's overloaded diaper with one hand, including wiping him down, wadding up diaper into plastic Ziploc, having to change his entire outfit as well, all in high heels, just like Ginger Rogers.

I have to say that in spite of all this, all the dark parts and the fears, the obsessive Googling of "infant autism symptoms" or "forceps delivery brain damage" in the middle of the night, I have truly come to live in TRUST.

Part of my strategy that works for this is to decompress when the frazzle begins, usually by taking a deep breath, drinking a glass of water (yes, even with screaming in the background) and sometimes by doing a yoga pose or, more likely, by walking around outside (with or without babe in arms). Another good technique to defrazzle for me is to put on music and dance, dance, dance. Sing, sing, sing.

Sometimes I just need to eat a piece of fruit or a vegetable.

And like Neo in the Matrix, frankly I just have to UN-PLUG. Turn off the TV, cellphone, puter, whatever.

Then I can bask in sweet Baby Time, living in the Eternal Now instead of buying into the harried Time Space Continuum that is the Maya of contemporary existence.

And then I'm able to gaze with love, just love, into his eyes again. Then we're connected at the heart's core again. Then I can't wait to teach him everything again, can't wait for my next lesson from him again.